Disclaimer: World of Warcraft belongs to Blizzard; I'm just playing in their delightful world. In an attempt to make this a faithful adaptation of the worgen starting zone, lines of dialogue have been lifted and/or modified slightly from the game. Hope you enjoy, and hopefully I've improved since I last wrote my embarrassing Mary Sue Marauders stories. ^^;
The sky overhead was that of a typical dreary Gilnean day: overcast and looking like the clouds were swollen with rain ready to fall. A remarkable feat, considering it had poured not half an hour earlier.
Then again, this was Gilneas. Overcast skies and near-constant rain were the norm for the kingdom.
In a glen on the outskirts of Gilneas City, two women, one looking to be nearing old age and another barely into adulthood, could be found in the middle of a lesson. The older woman, clad in a simple brown robe with a hood, was standing behind the younger, lecturing her while she practiced her spellwork.
"For nearly twenty years, the Greymane Wall has kept us safe from the outside. After the Second War, when we withdrew into our nation and built the wall around us, we encountered problems we hadn't considered. We were driven to the edge of extinction once before, Faolan. But we druids, keepers of the old ways, saved our people from famine." The druidess Celestine watched as her pupil struggled with the growth spell; as she watched, the gold light around Faolan's hands sizzled and went out. Celestine sighed. "When we cut ourselves off from the outside world and our crops failed, it was our order who called upon the earth's blessings and restored the harvest—"
"I know," Faolan snapped, bending over and pressing her hands against her knees, breathing heavily. She seemed to realize her tone was not entirely appropriate, as she bowed her head. "Apologies, mistress."
"It's alright, dear. I had trouble with that spell when I was your age, too." Celestine touched her fingertips lightly to Faolan's forehead and the younger druidess felt energy flow into her tired body. "You have a long ways to go. You are still young; you were one of the first children born inside the wall, after all." She smiled.
Faolan didn't seem particularly inclined to smile back. "I just want to master this spell!" she growled, wiping away the strands of orange hair that had plastered themselves to her forehead with sweat. "If Gilneas is to experience another famine, we'll need all the druids we can muster! Our numbers are dwindling; I can't afford to—"
"Faolan." Celestine's gentle voice stopped Faolan's beginning rant. "Have you never considered you might not be suited for this particular branch of druidism? Taking into account how much of an affinity you have for the combat-oriented spells, perhaps becoming a harvest witch is not for you."
"But…" Faolan's face fell. "But I want to help, I want to be useful! I promised Mother that I'd make Gilneas better when she agreed to let me train under you!"
"And you have been." Celestine put her hand under Faolan's chin, tilting her head up so she'd look at her. "You've been doing a wonderful job with the border patrol. I've heard nothing but good things about your performance."
"Only because nobody wants to make you angry," Faolan muttered, sitting down heavily in the grass. She ignored the rainwater that was seeping into the leather stitched to her trousers.
Celestine shrugged and sat beside her, arranging her skirts as she did so. "Perhaps, but I find it doubtful." She glanced up at the sun, which was about to touch the horizon, and tilted her head thoughtfully. "It's getting late. You should head home; I wouldn't want you to miss dinner and then have to go on patrol on an empty stomach."
Faolan sighed and tugged her ponytail tighter before standing back up and taking several steps away to retrieve her spear, which was sitting propped against a nearby tree. "Yes, mistress. Thank you."
"And be safe, do you hear me?" Celestine's lined face grew serious. "I've been hearing rumors not just from the townsfolk, but on the wind as well. Something's out there—" She waved an arm at the wild forest in the distance. "—something that has the king worried. Take care of yourself tonight."
Faolan nodded and slung her spear over her back, waving to Celestine as she began the long walk home.
One of the guards by the gate waved to her as she approached. "How goes, Faolan?"
"Going well, I suppose. Thank you for asking, Lieutenant."
Lieutenant Walden nodded at her, then looked up at the sky. "Looks like it's going to rain tonight."
"There's a surprise," Faolan said dryly, and Walden and the other sentry chuckled. "Gentlemen, I'll see you later tonight; I'm on border patrol."
"Until then." Walden saluted and returned to a more formal stance, gazing out into the forest.
Faolan gave a tiny nod to the other sentry as she passed. Once inside the gate, she started up an easy jog that would take her through the merchant's district to her home in the Merchant's Square.
The leatherworking shop where she lived smelled, unsurprisingly, of leather and dyes. The bottom floor where the store was located was dark when Faolan entered; she went behind the counter and climbed the stairs to the small two-room apartment above, from which the smells of beef stew were wafting.
The ground rumbled and Faolan stumbled slightly on her way up the steps, catching herself on the railing. She frowned. That must have been the third earthquake this week. All of them had been minor so far, but they had the citizens of Gilneas worried.
She shook it off and pushed open the door at the top of the stairs. "Da! I'm home!"
"Fwai!" Lyall Leonard came over from the fireplace and caught his daughter up in a massive bear hug. Years of carrying around large stacks of hides had toughened him up so there was a lean muscle to his body. "How did your training go today?" he asked, stepping back and gripping her by the shoulders. "And how is Celestine? Doing well, I hope?"
"Training's… great, Da," Faolan said, deciding to not mention her conversation with her teacher. She pulled her spear off her back and propped it in the corner. "And Celestine is as well as ever. Did you feel that earthquake just now?"
"Did I?" Lyall pointed over at the fireplace, over which a stewpot was hung. Stew was bubbling inside, but it looked like some of it had slopped out of the pot when the ground started shaking. "At least most of our dinner survived."
"Thank goodness for that." Faolan moved a stack of hides that her father must have been embossing earlier that day from the table to the floor before going to a cabinet and retrieving bowls and spoons. "I'll have to eat and run, I'm on patrol again tonight." She set the dishes on the table and sat while her father removed the pot from over the fire, bringing it over and setting it in the center of the table.
"Again?" Lyall asked in surprise. "That's the fourth time this week now, isn't it?"
"Yes," Faolan said, waiting while he dished out his stew. "King's orders. I don't know what's going on, but… well, you've heard the rumors."
"Heard the howling, is more like it," Lyall said, handing the ladle over to her. "The wolves out there are just getting more aggressive every night, aren't they?"
"That's assuming they're even wolves," Faolan said darkly.
"Aye that." Lyall began eating, a pensive expression on his face.
Faolan followed suit, snarfing down food. She froze when she heard hoofsteps outside in the square below, followed by shouts of "Make way for the prince!"
"The prince…?" Lyall got up and went to the window, peering outside. Faolan joined him, ducking under his arm to see for herself.
Sure enough, Prince Liam Greymane was in the square, sitting on a white stallion and surrounded by several guards.
"Wonder what he's here for," Faolan murmured, leaning out the window slightly. She sort of knew the prince, in a sense. Celestine and the other druids would biannually go to Greymane Manner to give the king a report on how the crops were doing, and Faolan had come along the last several years.
Lyall and Faolan exchanged looks when the prince began directing his men to spread out. "I want the perimeter secured and the gates manned by two guards at all times. No one gets in, no one gets out," he shouted, his voice carrying out over the square.
"I should get down there," Faolan said, stepping away from the window.
Lyall turned and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "I don't know what's going on out there. Be careful."
"When am I not?" Faolan asked, grabbing her spear and heading down to the Merchant's Square. "Don't worry, I'll be back in a few hours."